By Mara's Grace
by PennyForTheGuy
Summary: Faelian and Durga. They're a strange couple; but a loving one. A series of one shots on their romance. Elves, Khajiits, Nords, danger, love and magic in the bluffs of Skyrim.
1. This is how they met

Winterhold never seemed to get out from under the blizzards. Always the winds howled outside and threw snow in your face no matter were you looked. Blizzards made Durga want to make a nest of pillows and covers and sleep in front of a roaring fire, preferably with a nice, firm, hot man to cuddle. That however was not doable in the middle of the College's Hall of Attainment.

The magic well in the center of the hall keep it warm enough but the cold light and the intolerable quiet made it feel empty, vulnerable to the biting cold outside. Durga rolled over on her horribly stiff bed, rubbing clawed hands over her fuzzy, pointed ears and her pink nose, trying to find some slightly comfortable position. She had to sleep, she'd been working almost non-stop since she entered the College of Winterhold. Tolfdir was nice enough to work with but Mirabelle and the others were real taskmasters. If she wasn't running errands or finding lost books she was trying to master a spell or pouring over volume after volume trying to commit them to memory.

All in the name of getting a better handle on her talent and moreover avoiding a life of cheating and thieving. She has mountains of work to do still and needed to sleep, but her mind refused to shut up and her **damn mattress** refused to give an inch to her weight.

The great doors at the entrance parted and someone stumbled in. Durga growled and yanked her wolf pelt up around her neck. Despite her thick snow leopard's fur the blizzard bit right through to her bones. Oh how she hated that there were no doors to the private chambers of the students. Soft footsteps came up from the door and she heard sniffling and brushing along with the quiet _plops_ of snow falling from clothes.

Another student walked into the hall, Durga kept her eyes shut still trying to find sleep; till she heard him digging around the wardrobe in the room directly across form hers. Unless someone was stealing in broad daylight (which she highly doubted) Faelian was back from his studies. Despite herself Durga purred lightly, and opened her sapphire blue eyes to take a good long look at him.

She had a liking for mer in general, and found Altmer to be a kind of forbidden fruit she couldn't resist. Faelian caught her attention the moment she saw him, and she was more than a little happy to find he had his living quarters in full view of hers. She watched him tuck some new books away with his collection, paying close attention to his slender but still quite manly hands. His skin tone was a little richer than most Altmer, making him look like he was made of real gold. His eyes were an unusual hue, somewhere between moonstone and citrine, and his hair gleamed like amber beneath his thick woolen hood.

Faelian locked his wardrobe and pulled off his thick over cloak, draping it over a chair to let it dry. His long hair was badly mussed by the hood. As he shuffled about his room Durga eyed him, letting half formed fantasies float over her. She focused on one in particular, taking him back to Breezehome and making that nest of furs and pillows and slowly peeling him out of his thin mage's robes. The fantasies soothed her overactive mind and Durga was drawn slowly into a light doze with images of Faelian still flitting about under her eyelids.

Faelian had noticed Durga's glazed stare as he pulled his alchemy bag out of a drawer. The Khaijit watched him a lot. He wondered idly if it was because her room happened to be directly across form his, but quickly remembered her lingering stares in the Arcanaeum and the Hall of Elements.

She was a strange one no doubt. She was the first student in decades to be accepted on ability alone. Faelian had been studying here for two years and only in the past months had he mastered the summoning of an atronarch. Durga did it to prove she was worthy of studying here. The woman's clouded past intrigued him, but her demeanor pushed him away.

She was as playful as a kitten, bubbly and vivacious with no concept of personal space. People like that made reserved Faelian feel crowded and uncomfortable. She was also a shameless flirt, even going so far as to tease Ancano. In the end she confused Faelian. As he set about making a simple restorative potion he glanced back at Durga's room. She fallen asleep and had her furry hand tucked up over her face, the furs she piled on her bed rising and falling with her deep breathes.

A smile tugged at Faelian's lips and he fought it down. Sometimes that cat was downright cute. A couple of hours later he felt eyes on him again as he dug through several bags looking for a rare ingredient. He glanced across the chamber to see Durga staring at him again. She was obviously just waking up but that heat in her eyes… it made his face flush a bit.

She finally stopped staring, stretched and slowly dragged herself out of bed. About the only time she was ever quiet or calm was when she was waking up.

Durga shook her head and rubbed her ears, her whiskers twitched as she felt a small sneeze coming on. She did her best to bite it back she didn't think a big cat sneeze would be appreciated in the close quarters. She could still feel sleep sticking to the fur about her eyes. She ignored that for now and shuffled to the tiny dinner room on the second level of the Hall.

The long table within was always stocked with foods, mostly grilled vegetables, fresh breads and even sweet rolls. Lately there was an unsual amount of meat on the tables as well. Durga peeled a bit of meat from a still steaming pot roast and popped it into her mouth. Her ears sagged, as she tasted the slightly rank, gamey meat. The old mammoth that fell dead outside town; that was where they got this meat from all of a sudden.

She ripped up some bread and put it and some leeks, potatoes and carrots on her plate. As she ate her mind wanders back to her home in Whiterun. She missed cooking a good Elswyer dinner over the big fire pit. She missed a lot of things in Whiterun.

He heard steps behind her and thought it might be Mirabelle or even Ancano, the Thalmor was pestering her a lot lately. Faelian popped into her range of vision as he was reaching for a bit of meat.

"Don't," she said quickly.

Faelian shot her an annoyed look and ripped of a bit anyway, then grimaced as he too realized where it had come from. He spat his bite out.

"Why would they feed us this?" he asked.

"If Durga knew that she'd have Mirabelle's job."

Faelian picked up his own plate of everything-but-meat and sat down nearby. Durga kept her eyes off him and stared idly out the window, still blinded by flying snow. Another student joined them after awhile. They said nothing to each other and the stifling silence of the Hall continued its reign.

Durga was nearly falling back asleep over her food when swift, harsh footsteps could be heard coming up the steps. None of the three needed to look to see who it was. Ancano was stalking through the Hall, most certainly looking for his next interrogation victim.

The imposing Altmeri circled the floor, poking his white haired head into every chamber before reaching the three at the table. Each one felt a sight pit in their stomachs form as he approached.

"I'm looking for Mirabelle." Ancano said briskly, and with no small hint of annoyance, "Who has seen her recently, and where?"

There was a long moment of silence and Ancano kept his piercing stare on them, liking her was trying to mentally force them to speak. Finally Faelian spoke up.

"I saw her heading towards the Arch Mage's quarters three hours ago."

"That hardly helps me." Ancano hissed, his scowl growing deeper.

Faelian shrugged and took a swig of mead.

Ancano turned to the recent arrival, a young human woman. She simply shook her head. He didn't take that as an answer and stepped closer towards her.

"I've been working in here all day, I haven't seen her at all." She said defensively.

He turned then on Durga, who ignored him. She in particular got under his skin for some reason and he came within inches of her, staring hard enough to make her clothes smoke. Durga took one more bite, slowly swallowing and washing it down with mead before turning and looking him over, very slowly.

Faelian saw Ancano's eyes widen ever to slightly as Durga drank him in. He felt another smile tugging at his lips; he recognized that heat in her eyes.

"Durga has been sleeping for hours, because she needed sleep. But, she does remember…" she placed a sharp finger to her temple. Ancano sneered.

"What does _she_ remember?" he sounded like he was ready to stab her.

"You are so tight, you tie yourself in knots." A smile grew on her face as Ancano's brow lifted, "Do you ever relax yourself? Durga thinks you need it."

Confusion blossomed on his face. Her grin got larger and she purred, giving him a hungry and lewd look.

"If you need help, Durga would happy, very happy to help."

She made a gesture, like she was rubbing something thick in her hand and Ancano grimaced.

"Ech, Khajiit! Mirabelle! Has the Khajiit seen her?" he said through clenched teeth.

Durga laughed.

"She may be heading back to the College now. Said she was going to the Inn for awhile."

Ancano wasted no time and stomped off, grumbling curses in Altmeri as he left. As soon as he seemed out of earshot, the human woman burst out laughing, and Faelian was barely stifling his own.

"Are you sure that was wise Durga?" he said, still chuckling.

"Wise? No, fun!" she flashed him an exuberant smile.

"Why would you antagonize him like that?" said the other student, Ysolde. "He could vaporize you in an instant."

"And then get kicked out of the College." Durga shrugged. She was quite awake now; Ancano's little visit had been useful. "He hates Durga, and all of us because we don't do what he wants. He is like a crying kitten, biting and scratching because he does not get what he wants. You never give a brat what they want, or they will never stop being a brat."

Faelian nodded at that. J'zargo, the College's other Khajiit and resident 'jackass' came in.

"J'zargo just saw Ancano in a huff. What happened?"

"Durga got him flustered." Said Ysolde.

"How?"

"Durga told him he needed some… self attention." She gave J'zargo a kind of toothy grin only Khajiit could manage. He returned it and began chuckling too.

"J'zargo wishes he had thought to say that."

He joined them at the table.

"She even offered to help." Faelian's tone was equally amused and unsettled. J'zargo screwed up his face at the thought.

"Durga thinks he might accept, if he did not have a rod so far up his ass."

There was a pause, and then Ysolde and J'zargo simultaneously said,

"What?"

"Durga thinks Ancano has a taste for her, maybe for Khajiit, and does not like to admit it to himself."

Ysolde scoffed.

"Durga is on skooma if she thinks that." She said sarcastically.

"Think. If you said that to Ancano would he get half so flustered? Durga thinks he wouldn't give two wits. Only when Durga teases him does he get so mad."

J'zargo started making the strangest noises, like he was holding back laughs and shudders at the same time.

"Faelian."

Durga startled him mid-swig. He quickly swallowed and cleared his throat.

"You were with Durga and Tolfdir when Ancano asked her about the Eye. Durga made a joke, then teased Ancano by brushing his leg with her tail. He blushed, his face was nearly red as rubies."

"Faelian, is that true?" J'zargo asked him.

Faelian thought back a moment. It was but he hadn't noticed Durga doing anything with her tail. He'd assumed Ancano was flushing with anger, but now that he thought about it, that look was embarrassment.

"Yes, I think."

Durga grinned with pride. J'zargo shook his head and rubbed his brow. Ysolde tried to start some idle chat about the gossip down in Winterhold, but the thoughts Durga has implanted were still swimming around in everyone's mind and the conversation fizzled quickly. After several minutes of awkward silence Durga perked up, her ears stood straight and her whiskers twitched. Most everyone had come to recognize that look as one of her 'idea' moments.

"What is it Durga?" J'zargo finally said.

"Would you like some entertainment at Ancano expense everyone?" she grinned wickedly.

"How?" Ysolde asked incredulously.

"Well, why don't we find out whether or not he really likes Khajiit?"

"Again, how?"

"Durga has an idea, simple and humiliating, and surely very funny."

Ysolde opened her mouth but Faelian spoke first.

"How humiliating?" he asked, a smile like the blade of a knife in his golden lips.

Durga motioned everyone in and whispered her simple little plan. At first everyone shook their heads and insisted it was impossible, potentially fatal. Durga pressed and it didn't take much to sway them, namely the thought annoying and intrusive Ancano left speechless for once, perhaps even permanently humiliated. Like Winterhold itself rumors traveled around the college like wildfire, and soon everyone up to the Arch Mage had heard some bit of the plan, everyone except the mark.

The next day Ancano was in the Acanaeum at midday. Durga was thankful for this rare bit of routine from the man. She, J'zargo, Faelian, and Ysolde were in there as well, half studying. A number of other students milled in and out along with some professors. Ancano took notice of it, Durga hadn't thought for a minute that he wouldn't but thankfully he seemed not to be putting it together.

And really, why in the name of the Divines would he suspect this? Finally he looked to be wrapping up, time for his usual small tiff with their grumpy and over protective librarian before moving onto his next task. Quickly but separately the four conspirators left the room and his in the steps leading down to the Hall of Elements. Durga snucke up to the edge of the steps as Ancano's argument Urag drew to a close.

There was a bang as Ancano deliberately slammed some volumes down on Urag's desk. Durga popped up as Ancano came into the stairwell. The Thalmor staggered and scowled, puffing himself up.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"Durga has something very important for you." She said sincerely, stepping closer to him.

He barely got the 'wha' out before she pounced. In a second his was pinned against a wall with his hands locked behind his back by her large, clawed hand and her other arm around his waist. She crushed her mouth to his, and all the others waiting out if sight in the stairwell and just around corners peeked out to take in the sight. Even U'rag got up form his desk and ventured out to get a look.

Ancano let out a muffled yell when she pinned him, but now was making small, confused whimpers. His eyes darted about, not to anyone watching but back and forth between Durga and anything else. His chest heaved as she pressed her lips to his. Amazingly he seemed to be partially accepting it. He wasn't lashing out, or maybe he was just shocked.

Amazed looks grew on the faces of the watchers as Ancano stiffened in Durga's embrace. Faelian could just hear a tiny, wet sound. Durga was licking his lips, daring him to let her go further. To everyone's amazement he relented. Ancano parted his lips just a bit, enough to let her slip her tongue into him. She tilted her head and began purring, Ancano's eyes momentarily rolled back into his head. He was making moans of his own now, stifled but still audible.

Everyone had managed to keep quiet up to now but finally one student couldn't contain herself anymore. From the Arcanaeum Ancano heard a cough and snort and realized the full situation. With a huge heave he got Durga off him, throwing her back several feet.

His hair was slightly mussed and there was a sticky gleam over his mouth. Durga tittered but caught herself, quickly taking up an innocent pose.

"Durga just had to be sure, and so did they?"

She motioned around her, and all the voyeurs came out form hiding, wild smiles on their faces. For a second everyone was frozen, then Faelian began a slow clap.

"Well done you two, well done. Very entertaining." He said, and soon all the others clapping as well. Ancano stood to his full height and shot withering glares all around, which did little to frighten anyone now. He shoved his way past them, up the steps towards the Arch Mage's quarters.

Tolfdir stepped out from the crowd.

"Out of line Durga." He gave her a fatherly look of disappointment, "Completely out of line."

"Perhaps." Mirabelle had also been among the on-lookers, "but I think that was needed. Might keep him a little quiet for a few days."

"Still, we better get up there." Tolfdir sighed, "Durga, don't go far."

The two professors went up the steps and Durga made her way through the crowd on students back to a desk. She got many pats on the back, amid the clinking of bets being exchanged.

"I never would have thought he'd like it." Faelian said as he sat down next to her. "You were right, perhaps he does have a naughty taste for Khajiit."

Durga shrugged, her normally playful smile absent.

"Do you think you'll be thrown out?" he asked her.

"No, but Durga thinks Ancano and the Arch Mage with make very sure she's miserable for awhile."

"Was it worth it?"

She paused a beat before nodding vigorously, an ear to ear grin back on her face. She licked her lips several times running her tongue over whiskers.

"He tastes quite good, like cloves."

Faelian snorted, then chuckled.

"Durga!" Mirabelle stood in the doorway, beckoning.

"Wish Durga some luck." She said with a sigh.

Faelian smiled as he watched her leave. She was gutsy, almost to the point of stupidity but he found it endearing. A fearless risk taker, who knew her way around the intricacies of magic almost as well as she knew her way around a sword. He shouldn't be able to stand her but somehow she'd wormed her way into his good graces along with nearly everyone else in the College. He wondered what kind of life made a woman like that.


	2. This is when they couldn't say no

Bit 2

Faelian's stomach was tying itself tighter and tighter as he ran through the halls of the College. Magicka was seeping through the very walls and he could feel the overwhelming energy surging into the place.

_Why? Why is Ancano doing this?_ Was all he could think as he got to the Hall of Attainment.

_Please let her be here._

He dove into Durga's room, and to his dismay it was still untouched. She had not yet returned from Myzuft and they were in very, very big trouble.

"Damn it to Oblivion, where is that Khajiit?" he hissed.

He turned on his heel intending to go check the other hall when he nearly ran into her. They both staggered from the momentum but she ended up steadying him. When he saw her he was taken aback. She no longer wore her simple robes, but a full suit of fine steel armor. A silver and sapphire circlet adorned her head and she smelled of earth, smoke, and blood. She looked tired and grizzled, her fur obviously unkempt for several days now.

"Durga? What happened?" he asked.

"Durga would like to ask you the same. What has happened to the Eye?" she had none of her usual levity. Faelian barely recognized the dour and serious woman before him.

"Ancano happened, and still is happening. He has some kind of ward around the Hall of Elements. Did you find the Staff, Durga?" Faelian pleaded.

Durga shook her head.

"Myzuft, it was not there. But there was a great device that told Durga where it was. She must tell the Arch Mage…" she trailed off as she spoke, staring into space. Faelian was confused only a moment before she looked at him again. Now he saw the Durga he knew, no smile, but that heat was in her eyes again. Despite all that was going on and worry and fear that gripped him, Faelian blushed and felt a small heat growing in the pit of his belly.

Since she had kissed Ancano Durga had grown quite close to him, and made little secret of her attraction. Though flattered Faelian was sure he would not be returning those desires. But when she left for Myzuft something in him changed. She'd entered his thoughts on so many occasions it scared him.

Like she could smell it on him (and she probably could) a new, curious and hungry look appeared on her features. She brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, and a small quiver shot down his spine. Her fur was as soft as a young kitten's and felt soothing and arousing all at once.

"Durga…" his voice shook a little, "Ancano, the Eye… you have to talk to the Arch Mage."

The Khajiit's face set with determination and she pushed him back towards the stairwell.

"Durga knows where she must go, even after helping the Arch Mage." She whispered as she guided him back.

"She must go into some of the most dangerous crypts and ruins in Skyrim. She may not return in time, or at all." She steered him around the small space beneath the stairs, getting closer to him with each word.

"So, she does not want to die without doing _something_ with you." With that she kissed him, just like she did with Ancano. Faelian understood now why Ancano had been so shocked and confused. Kissing a Khajiit was not like anything he'd ever experienced. They had just enough lip to make it feel like a kiss, but the tickle of fur and whisker was just, strange. Faelian managed to push her back enough to speak.

"Durga, I don't know… I… you want to something? What thing?"

"Anything." She said, her voice going soft, "Anything with you. Just with you. She just wants know you once, if she's going to die."

For a moment he didn't understand, then it clicked into place. This was far more than lust on her part. Had they become that close? Faelian's blush spread and the stirring heat flared up. He'd never heard someone say that before, he'd never considered what it might feel like. And he found he liked it very, very much.

A small moan escaped him as his body reacted to her words. Durga smiled, finally, and returned her mouth to his. This time she licked his lips lightly, and he obliged her not sure what to expect next. To his surprise and delight, a Khajiit's tongue was not as rough as a normal cat's. It was still quite different from a human or mer's but she moved it in just the right way as she explored him.

Once he became used to it the sensation grew intoxicating and he soon had an arm around her waist and a hand buried in the black hair on her head, pulling her as close to him as he could. The tickling whiskers that had bothered him before now excited him further, very quickly he was so hard it nearly hurt. He groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips against her armored leg.

Slowly she pulled back and as she left his mouth a thin trail of salvia followed her. Faelian leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. His lips and cheeks were wet from their mismatched mouths and his erection was all too obvious beneath his robes but none of his usual modesty came out. Durga wiped off a bit and then leaned in to gently lick his cheek, then ran a fuzzy hand over his pointed ear.

The effect was instantaneous. Faelian had had his ears touched before but warm soft fur; it made him quake in her arms and elicited delicious moans. Durga's smile grew and she gently licked one ear while teasing the other with her hand. The moans Faelian made; you would have thought he was riding her rather than just getting his ears teased. He was thrusting against her leg and his breath was heaving, he dimly thought that he'd never been so aroused in his life.

Suddenly she stopped and her hands meandered down his body, sliding under his robes and caressing his skin. Faelian calmed a bit and closed his citrine colored eyes, enjoying the feel of her incredibly soft fur over his bare skin. When she got to the waistband of his trousers she first touched him through the cloth, asking him silently if he was really all right with it.

Faelian didn't realize that till he opened his eyes and saw her questioning look. He nodded, a grin coming onto his face. He needed to feel her touch there, the heat in his belly had become a furnace and the throbbing in his groin was bordering on painful. The sound he made when she opened his trousers and gripped him was a combination of a surprised yelp and a very delighted moan.

He gnawed on his lip as she held him with both hands began slowly pumping him, a thumb swirling over the tip. Her smile had not left her face since he had first moaned and it only grew as she watched his reactions. Faelian had a wonderful amount of passion hiding beneath his crafted, cool persona. But she could also tell he was not the most experienced man. Still stroking him, she pushed him down the wall so he could sit and she could kneel.

He made no protest as she pulled his trousers completely open, but got confused as she place herself between his legs carefully pushing them further and further apart.

"Durga, what?" his voice was heady but she heard the small tint of fear. "What are you doing?"

"Is it not obvious?" she gripped him again and idly ran the pads of her fingers along the underside. Faelian squeaked, but shook his head.

"No one has ever tasted you?" before he could answer she dipped her head and ever so lightly licked the tip. Faelian gasped and one hand flew up to fist her hair.

"Durga will do something wonderful for you." She fixed him with a look that sent a shock right down his spine and into his cock. "Just keep your hips still. Scratch Durga's skin or pull hair if you must, no thrusting."

Faelian gulped. He didn't want to do either of those things but…what was it going to be like if he could do that to keep from thrusting?

Durga settled herself between his legs and then lowered her head again, carefully taking the first couple of inches into her mouth. Faelian's moan sounded more like one of pain than pleasure. It was as strange as the kiss at first, he could feel her fangs grazing him ever so lightly, but her tongue… her licking made him feel things that he didn't think a man was capable of feeling.

Very quickly he felt energy building up in his hips, they wanted to buck. Faelian swallowed hard and forced the feeling down and buried his hand in her hair and fur instead. She took more of him into her mouth and began pumping her head, the heat and pleasure of it began spreading from his groin the his thighs and to his belly, a tingling running up and down his skin.

Faelian was moaning or gasping with every breath, occasionally he whispered her name. Every time he did she took a little more of him in, working a new trick with that tongue of hers or running her fingers around the base of his shaft in ways that made him shiver. Faelian began to wonder just how much of him she could handle. Her mouth seemed like a bottomless cavern. Some part of him wanted to ask her but his mind was quickly becoming incapable of coherency.

Suddenly something tickled his inner thighs. He glanced down to see her long whiskers were just barely grazing him. Something about that light tickling was dragging him over the edge fast.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps and Durga was being far less methodical, now working him in every single way to bring him to release. Faelian stopped trying to think and just waited for the climax, it came very quickly. A horse cry escaped him, his whole body stiffened and he broke the rule she had set, pushing his hips off the floor. He felt like he was being crushed by the wave of overpowering pleasure that was running through him, his body was nearly convulsing and all he was aware of was the ecstasy. As he came Durga sucked him, greedily taking in every drop he gave her.

Finally he relaxed and slumped against the wall, drenched in sweat and still quivering in afterglow. Durga lifted her head and flexed her neck, savoring his taste. When he looked up at her she grinned and licked her chops, leaning in and grabbing his head to kiss him and let him sample himself.

A few more minutes recovering and Faelian began to compose himself. The strangeness of what he just did hit him. A new blush appeared on his face and he suddenly felt like everyone in the world knew what had happened in this little corner of Winterhold. He scrambled to close his robes and began stuttering excuses, trying to step around Durga.

She caught him and pinned him again, her smile gone.

"Faelian. Are you ashamed of this?" she asked, very seriously.

Faelian couldn't answer at first. His mind was whirling around, bringing up the Eye of Magnus, Winterhold in danger, the customs of his people, the social norms, the expectations placed on him. All at once he saw every horrible thing that might happen to the both of them if anyone found out what they'd done. His people might kill her, hers might kill him, Winterhold might explode if they didn't move soon…it just kept going on.

Then something stronger came into his head. He'd been on edge for days. He thought it was Ancano, who until a few hours ago had been acting like a man possessed and frightening many with his barely concealed intents. Then he realized… Durga wandering Myzuft all alone, looking for clues, looking for a way to save them. That was what caused the twisting pit in his stomach, and when she came back to him, when she kissed him, when she gave him pleasure; affection. It turned his legs to jelly and turned his gnawing fear into calm, even to confidence.

As she stared him down, Durga saw Faelian's face slowly switch from fear and shame to a kind of quiet epiphany. He lifted a hand to grip her wrist, squeezing it, then pressed his lips to hers. That was all the answer she needed. One last lingering look and he dragged her out of the stairwell.

"Go to the Arch Mage now."

Durga took off towards the door, her armor clanking as she jogged.

"Durga!" she stopped dead and looked back. Faelian was trying to hide his dread and worry behind a sweet smile.

"Live Durga." was all he said. She nodded and went out the door, leaving him to hope like mad that wasn't the last time he saw her.


	3. This was their first time

Bit 3

Faelian took in the well-appointed, cozy place Durga called home. He still found it hard to believe that she had been a Thane of Whiterun even before coming to the College. Now she also held the title of Arch Mage, though if she had had her own way that would have been quickly passed to Tolfdir. After her battle with Ancano Durga was keen to leave Winterhold. Faelian still felt the tickle of whiskers when she greeted him with a hearty kiss after the Eye was gone.

He wasn't entirely sure why he agreed to go back to Whiterun with her, but he did and here he was. Durga hung her snow dusted cloak on a hook and went to the back of the house, going through the pantry cabinets.

"Lydia has kept the house well stocked. Durga will make you something to eat." She said.

"Who is Lydia?" Faelian hung up his own cloak and moved closer to the great fire in the center of the house, warming his hands and toes.

"Durga's housecarl. Durga had her stay behind to protect her home. "

"The rest of Whiterun must not be happy to see a Khajiit become a Thane."

Durga came back with some cheeses and bread on a wooden plate and handed it to him.

"If they are, they do not say or do anything because they know Durga's strength." she said with a look of pride.

"And how do they know your strength?" Faelian sat down in one of the armchairs by the fire pit and sampled some of the cheese.

"Because Durga has killed dragons to save the city."

Faelian was glad he wasn't trying to swallow when she said that, or else he would have choked.

"You killed dragons? Durga how…"

She held up a clawed finger.

"Let Durga get something."

She then hopped upstairs, and he heard her rummaging around in a chest. A few minutes later she came back down with a large set of bones wrapped up in thick leather.

"From Durga's kills." She said, putting them down on the table by his seat.

Faelian carefully unwrapped the bones, studying them. They were not horse or elk bones, they were bigger than either but much lighter. One of them was broken and he saw why. The bones were not solid or hollow, but rather had a web like construction. He tested one, twisting it in his hands. It bent slightly but he could feel the tension in it, the bone was resisting the torsion like a piece of thin steel.

"I have never seen bones like this before." Faelian said with a small bit of awe.

"Look at the skin." Said Durga.

He looked back at the leather that had bound the bones. Flipping it over he saw it was scaled.

"It is nearly fire proof on that side," she explained as he examined a piece, "Durga tried to work with it but it is so thick and strong she could barely get an iron nail through it." She made an exasperated sound.

"Durga tried many things to make armor form that skin. It resists fire and force, even magic."

Curious, Faelian wrapped the skin around his fist and carefully held it over the flames. He felt heat from the fire and took his hand away. He tapped the scales, they were warm but there was no burning or charring.

"It can only be dragon scales."

Even though he was handling the remains of said dragons, he found it hard to wrap his mind around the image of fluffy, cheery, practical joke pulling Durga slaying one of these ancient and near god like creatures.

"How exactly did you kill this dragon?" he put a hand to his temple and fixed her with a look of skepticism.

Durga sat down in the chair next to him and scratched an ear.

"Durga is not the best bard. She does not spin a yarn well," she moved her scratching to beneath her chin, "So let her ask you this. If you had to kill a dragon, and had sufficient power to do so; how would you go about it?"

Faelian took a moment to think. He'd never seen a dragon, had never done extensive research on them, so he found himself guessing based on legends, logic and the nature of the remains she'd shown him.

"About all I can think of is to avoid their breath and teeth."

"A good idea, and one Durga had to use but there's more. Their tails are fast as bull whips and hit like battering rams. They love to fly around and burn or freeze prey from above. They only land to taunt you, so sure are they you cannot hurt them. It takes at least three hits from a good sharp weapon to make them bleed and if they ever sit still long enough for you to hit that many times a miracle has occurred. And they are smart, they see what you try to do, and they act accordingly. Durga has only killed three dragons, but all three nearly killed her."

Faelian gulped. He'd never been keen to see a dragon and now he prayed he'd never so much as hear one from miles away. They sat in awkward silence for a while Durga did nothing but stare into the fire perhaps remembering her past battles.

"Do you have any wine or mead?" Faelian finally asked. A part of him was regretting his trip here and he wanted to silence it with drink.

"Good idea. Forgive, Durga forgot her manners." She went back to the larder and began searching for any alcohol.

"Lydia loves mead. She should keep some. Aha!" Faelian heard the clink of glass and Durga returned holding a huge jug and two large steins.

Faelian gladly took his and Durga filled it nearly to the brim. He took a long sip as she examined the writing on the jug.

"Durga thinks this should have been warmed first."

"It's fine" Faelian could already feel the warmth from the mead spreading through his body, "Its very strong. And…" he took in its unique bouquet, "a bit fruity?"

"Savor it. It was made in Helgen. A special mead with juniper berries. Likely that this will never be made again." Durga filled her own cup and sat back down.

"Why is that?"

When he asked that she looked at him like one looks at a child who asks why the sky blue.

"Helgen was destroyed. Burned to the ground by a dragon."

"Dragons again." Faelian took another sip, "Nothing is talked about but dragons these days."

Durga had gotten lost in the fire again. Faelian sighed.

"By the ancestors, what do you keep thinking about?"

"Helgen." Her voice was uncharactiscally sad, "I was there."

"Wha-" Faelian would have doubted her words if not for her demeanor. For a moment he could think of nothing to say.

"You said you're not good at telling stories." He ventured, "But could you try to tell me what happened?"

Durga looked almost offended by his question.

"Why?"

"I came here because," he paused a beat, not yet ready to say something," because I care for you. You've… proved you have feelings for me as well. Why keep this from me? Shouldn't we be a comfort to each other?"

Close personal feelings and the conversations attached were not something he was good at and he cringed as he spoke, sure he was only offending her more. But Durga softened, her face wore a look of 'why not?' and she leaned back in her chair.

"Durga nearly died several times that day. First time was when she got caught in a skirmish between Imperials and Stormcloaks on the border. She was carted to Helgen with them, and nearly executed along with Ulfric Stormcloak and his men."

Faelian was not so lucky as before when she mentioned Ulfric Stormcloak. He nearly spat his mouthful of mead into the fire. He coughed and sputtered, and Durga patted his back.

"If you are going to keep doing that, put your drink down now." She joked.

When he recovered Faelian did set his drink aside. The mead was very strong and he could already feel a light buzz. He could wait a few minutes to get fully drunk.

"Durga should not have been on the block with them." She continued, "but the captain didn't care. They killed a rebel and then put Durga's neck down. Then she saw something come flying over the mountains. Before she knew it a black dragon had landed on the tower above her. It looked right at her."

Faelian saw her fur stand on end as she remembered.

"It spat words at her, and threw her back with the force. In the chaos she slipped away into another tower with the Stormcloaks. She climbed the tower, jumped down and ran through the village. Everyone was burning, dying, and the dragon was chasing Durga. Finally Durga found a rebel and he helped her get into the Keep and escape Helgen through the caves beneath. After that Durga had to go to Rivenwood for help, and then to Whiterun to get reinforcements for the village. When Durga killed a dragon outside Whiterun a few weeks later, the Jarl made her a Thane."

Faelian rubbed his forhead.

"From Imperial prisoner and illegal immigrant to Thane and Arch Mage in a few months. Your life is a tall tale Durga. Had I not witnessed much of it I would never believe it."

Durga smiled, her sapphire eyes flashing with humor.

"Durga often does not believe her own memories."

"Do you mind answering a few more questions?" he asked, tentatively.

"You were obviously born in Elyswer. Why did you leave?"

"Durga did not want to be a thief or a skooma dealer, or a trader like so many of her kind. She left to find a better way of life." He tone was angry and terse, her fangs bared slightly as she spoke.

"I didn't mean to offend you with that question." As he spoke she waved a hand at him.

"Durga is angry at the past, at Elyswer, not you."

"Why Skyrim?" he couldn't bite the question back, but was relieved when she laughed.

"Good question. Durga can't really remember. She did not like Cyrodiil or Morrowind, did not know about the war and thought it might be good for… some reason. Why did you come to Skyrim?"

Faelian smiled just a hint as she turned the question back on him.

"Much the same reason as J'zargo. I sought to learn and many other magic colleges and foundations are too busy guarding secrets and hoarding knowledge to teach. I didn't realize I was walking into a powder keg either."

"What would you like to do now that you are here?" she asked sincerely.

Faelian had to think on that.

"I suppose I could keep on with my alchemy research. Isn't there a master alchemist in Whiterun…" he trailed off when he saw the look on her face. She looked pained, guilt ridden.

"Durga thinks that she dragged you here unduly." She seemed to have more on her mind but said nothing else.

"You could have stayed at the College." There was a tense silence between them, then she spoke again.

"Durga hated it there. She couldn't stand the thought of running that place and living in all that snow and frost. She was selfish, and made you come along."

Faelian wasn't sure why he posed the next question, but it tumbled out of him almost of its own volition.

"Why did you have me accompany you?"

"Because…" there was pain in her eyes, like she was just on the edge of heartbreak. "she cannot stand the thought of not having you near."

She got up from her seat and reached out to stroke his cheek, smiling as he let her touch him.

"If you want to go back to Winterhold, or the Summerset Isles, you may go."

Faelian chuckled.

"I'm not going back to the Isles. And I'm not going back to Winterhold either. Truth be told I don't think I would have stayed long anyways." He rose, and returned her gentle touch. "And had I not left with you, I would have probably not seen you again. And I don't like to think about that possibility."

Durga was greatly relieved by that, and as he stroked her fur he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. When he looked at her she was disappointed. Her brow furrowed and she put both hands on his face and pulled him in for a more passionate kiss. As he slipped his tongue into her mouth he felt arousal building again, the fire flared in his belly and loins and he put an arm around her waist to pull her closer.

They kissed a long time in front of the fire, each enjoying the comfort and sweetness of it. When it ended Durga purred and nuzzled his neck, he felt his excitement grow as her fuzzy ears rubbed the delicate skin there. Despite what happened before she left to retrieve the Staff of Magnus they still hadn't really had sex. Faelian was nervous; about several things at once.

He wanted to please, but in his past experiences her was really only an adequate lover. He was unsure of how different a Khajiit was from an elf or a human and he wasn't sure if he could get used to the feeling all the thick fur that covered her. So far however his body had told him that it liked all those differences.

Durga was oblivious to his conflict and licked his neck before taking his hand and leading him towards the stairs.

"Wait," he scrambled for an excuse to buy time, "My bags are still, " he pointed towards the two leather bags slumped by the door, "let me take care of them quick, I'll come up then."

Durga gave him a look but proceeded up alone. He took a minute to try to calm his hammering heart and put his belongings down on the tables in the back of the house, then downed his drink in two gulps. He stared at his empty cup, his eyes shot up to the ceiling where he could hear Durga moving about. He shook his head and poured himself another cup and downed that too.

He went slowly up the stairs, still trying to calm his heart. It was pumping like a hummingbird's wings. Upstairs he saw a door to the left and a set of double doors on the right. He could just see the Khajiit moving behind them. One last bracing breath and he pushed them open and walked inside.

Durga was taking off her boots and bracers, not sensually though. She very carefully removed each piece and placed them on a long table beside some polishing wax and a wet stone. Her sword was already set out. She grunted as she tried to undo the pauldrons and breast plate.

"Help me would you?" she turned her back to him and pointed to the buckle hidden beneath the metal. Faelian's nimble fingers had the armor off quickly and she placed it along side the rest, and last the leg plates joined it. She wore linens and wools beneath and took a few moments to stretch muscles and crack complaining joints.

She seemed so tired that for a moment Faelian thought he had panicked over nothing, till she ran her tail up the inside of his leg. He squeaked, he could clearly feel her fur through his linen trousers and his arousal flared when her tail brushed his groin.

He rubbed his forehead, he suddenly felt rooted in place by his own indecisiveness. Durga sighed and embraced him, rubbing hands up and down his back while purring.

"Tonight we will answer questions." She said, "If you do not like what you find, Durga is not the right woman for you. It is that simple. Try something before you swear off it."

Faelian returned her embrace.

"Just… tell me what to do. I will _try_."

Durga kissed his cheeks and lips, her whiskers making him giggle just a tad.

"Take off your robe, and help Durga out of this tunic."

Faelian did has she asked, lowering his hood and untying his belt. She slipped the thin garments from his shoulders and it puddled on the floor. She massaged his chest, taking in the pretty slight of his slender, golden body shimmering like an idol in the candlelight. Part of her was sue this would be the only time she got to see him like this, so she was determined to make this as beautiful an experience for the both of them as was possible.

With trembling fingers he undid the knots that held her tunic closed and it fell next to his. He was a bit taken aback by her body. Just as he assumed her coat was thick, especially around her neck and chest but he could clearly see the rather shapely curves beneath. His shaft twitched when he saw her breasts packed cruelly into a silken band.

"That looks painful." He voice grew heady as he reached out to gingerly touch them, running his fingers over the line between silk and flesh. Durga smiled and lifted her arms, he untucked one end and she turned around and around, the band slowly unwinding. Faelian found himself captivated by the pattern in her fur. The rosettes of black, silver and cream white were striking and very beautiful to his eyes. Before his knew it the end of the silk fell away from her, and he grinned. Her breasts though furred were pleasing, the nipples were free of hair and a rosy pink and quickly hardened in the slight chill of the air. Her bosom was not a modest one and the urge to touch made goosebumps rise on his flesh.

Durga leaned against him as he stood simply staring. He felt her breasts press against he chest and his member pressed into his leg in response. He ran his hands down her back, burying fingers in her thick, downy soft coat. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. He liked this perhaps a little too much. Faelian forced down his doubts and made a little space between them and cupped her, filling his hands with her bosom. The weight of those mounds was as satisfying as any others, and the hair didn't bother him a bit.

He set his jaw then dipped his head, taking a rosy nipple into his mouth. Durga moaned and purred at the same time, raking fingers through his long amber hair. Suckling her was a bit different, he had to avoid getting hairs in his mouth but he still was aroused by the feel of hard bud beneath his tongue and even more by her rumbling purrs. He jumped when she ran her tail between his legs again, caressing his inner thighs. He nearly bit her when she added fingers running over his ears.

He took his mouth away form her breast and buried his face in her long chest fur. That was… quite nice. He got his first real whiff of her scent. He couldn't decide if it was more like a woman or a feline but he liked it. He kissed his way back to her mouth and pulled her head to his, dipping his tongue into here again and trying to respond to hers. When he pulled back she smiled.

"You like Khajiit women so far?"

He grinned and nodded, following her onto her bed. She lay down and let him revel in her bosom again, purring as suckled her and running her tail over his back and legs, making him shiver. She impatient though, he was starting to drive her mad with all this teasing. She pulled off the cord fastening her trousers and grabbed one of his hands pushing it down over her hips. Faelian felt his nervousness come back but forced it down. He did as she asked and tugged her trousers down her hips, carefully pulling her tail out before taking them off her all together.

He tossed them aside and looked at her for a moment. Her legs were very well built, the muscles strengthened by years of traveling on foot. He noticed her fur was thickest on the outside of her thighs, over her calves and on her inner thigh it was almost bare. The rosettes were just as strong as on her back and belly though. As he ran his hands down her legs she parted them.

Her quim was hardly any different than an elf or a human's and he grinned again. He ran a finger down the slit and she sighed, sinking into the blankets and furs. He pressed past her folds and explored her, carefully probing for her most sensitive spots. She gasped he worked the soft roof of her quim, he turned his hand rubbed his thumb against her. She began purring again as he started a rhythm, he felt a swell of masculine pride as she writhed and bit her own lip, fisting the sheets.

She teased him with her tail again, and he hissed. She lifted a leg and rubbed her knee against his still covered member. Ignoring himself for so long made it insanely hard to keep from coming right then. He grunted and forced her knee back down. Durga was eyeing him with mischievous glee, he suddenly couldn't let her get away with that.

Raw passion took over and he put his head between her thighs, parted her folds and tenderly licked her. Durga stifled a cry, and Faelian began carefully running his tongue over, looking for the just the right spot. He found it just above her entrance and teased her, pressing and flicking the flesh, occasionally plunging into her. She wasn't purring anymore, she was making very human cries and gasps, fisting his hair and running her fingers over his ears. She made him shudder and he changed tactics, taking as much of her into his mouth as he could and sucking.

It dawned on him that he was getting a bit of revenge for what she did to him several times back at the College, pinning him to corners and pulling down his clothes, leaving him to wonder who might burst in on them as she worked between his splayed legs. The thought made him chuckle against her and she laughed as well.

"What did you just think of?" she asked, between gasps.

He teased, then sucked her before lifted his head and wiping his mouth.

"Now you get to worry about who might stumble on you." He said with an evil grin.

"Only Lydia. And she…" Durga couldn't keep talking when he pressed that same spot with a finger, then inserted three into her and latched back onto her. He surprised her with his sudden eagerness. She held her legs up and parted them as much as she could, letting him work her into a blissful; mindless state.

Faelian could feel his belly tightening, he knew he was in desperate need of attention but he was addicted to this. He loved being in control; he loved making her whimper and moan. His hips started thrusting against the blanket and he stopped, making her whine as his mouth left her. He shuffled up on his knees and put her hands to his groin. He was as hard as stone as he rubbed him. She undid his waistband quickly and pulled his breeches down to his knees, and caressed his throbbing member.

Faelian almost growled as she worked him, she leaned in to lick the head and again he had to use all his willpower not to come. He pushed her back onto the bed and pulled her hips up to him. She angled herself and relaxed as he pushed in, a purr rising in her chest again as he hilted himself.

Her quim was hot, wet and wonderfully receptive to him, and the extra heat and stimulation of her fur made him feel like he had sunk a foot into her. Her tail snaked under his ass and between his legs, the tip gazing the small of his back. Faelian took a moment to steady himself; then lay over her and wrapped his arms around her back and neck.

He started slow and shallow, trying to see how long he would last. She reacted in the perfect way to his thrusts, squeezing him as he pulled out then relaxing to let him plunge back in. He started going harder and faster, the sensation was making him feel like lightening was crackling over his skin. Durga was making delighted gasps and raking her claws down his back, he was thankful that she was careful not to shred his skin.

She rubbed her tail over his groin with his thrusts and pushed herself closer to him, letting him come in a little deeper. He pounded faster in response sure he was only moments away from his climax. She startled him when she squeezed him, her slick walls convulsing around him. She ran her tongue over his ear and sucked at the lobe he went as fast as he could letting himself lose all control. He came explosively, his muscles locked and nearly cramped as instinct held him fast, making him push as far into her as he could.

She was still pulsing, and held him in a vice like grip as he came. After what felt like a year and a day he relaxed and collapsed on top of her. His golden skin was slick with sweat and the room was saturated in the scent of their sex. Faelian dimly thought that he could indeed do this again, and again, and again. Durga played with his long, mussed hair and turned him over, letting his member slide out of her and pulled a blanket over them.

"Sleep, its always best after love making."

Faelian felt a blush come to his cheeks as she said 'love making.' An Altmer and a Khajiit. A couple in love. It was strange to think about but not something he could deny. He wondered if he would stop doubting their feelings simply because of their difference in race. He banished those thoughts and let his mind go blank, Durga was already asleep but purring against his chest, the rumbling from her body was quickly sending him into a deep sleep.


	4. A Romantic, Late Night Bath

Bit 4

Durga woke up to a sneeze on her back. Faelian seemed to like falling asleep nuzzled up to her coat, despite the eventual sneeze storms. He'd been with her for a month now and to her great relief he seemed to have taken to living in Winterhold. He spent most of his days in the back room working in his various experiments, but often she saw him going to the alchemist or up near Dragon's Reach to talk with the court wizard. Faelian buried his face in her back again, playing with her loose black hair.

"Its longer now." He mused, twisting the coarse strands between his fingers. She lifted her tail and swept it over his golden skin.

"Fae, do you like it here? Does it feel like home?"

There was a long and uneasy pause. She wished she could see his expressions instead of her headboard.

"Fae?" he finally said. Durga snorted.

"Pet name, do you not like it?"

She turned over and he put his head on her side, running his fidgety fingers through fur.

"Makes me sound like a woman in Cyrodill." He muttered.

"We both know you aren't." she sighed. Why did he always dance around these important questions?

He was quiet again then finally spoke.

"I like it well enough here, but a home? Perhaps not, but then again the College was less of a home than here and…" he trailed off, seeing at the uneasy look on her face.

"Here now," he took her hand, "What has had you so sullen lately?"

Durga looked off into the distance, her pale eyes seemed to see through the wooden walls and out to the dark night landscape.

"Durga will have to travel again soon."

"To where?"

"High Hrothgar."

Faelian stared dumbly at her.

"High Hrothgar? Isn't that one of the Nord's holiest places? The monastery on top of Snow Throat?"

Durga nodded.

"Don't you have to climb seven thousand old, moldering steps to get there, which might be rife with every single kind of horrible creature in Skyrim?"

She nodded again.

Faelian got up on his knees and leaned into her.

"Durga, are you crazy?"

He looked deep into her eyes, searching for any hint of humor or real insanity.

"After Myzuft, Durga was called." She said.

"Called?" he raised an eyebrow.

"By Greybeards. They shouted 'Durga', and the Nords say I must go."

Faelian hung his head.

"Just because the Nords say…"

She lifted his chin, gently cupping it in a soft hand.

"Durga feels it. She feels pulled to the Throat of the World. She must go there."

Her eyes were again drawn away, like she was trying to peer to the top of the mountain and save herself the journey.

"Durga…why didn't you tell me? I can understand not mentioning it while the Eye was still at the College, but why wait so long?"

"Durga was afraid. You are not her husband, you are not bound to her, if she leaves, why would you wait?"

The Khajiit sniffed and some glistening drops got caught in the fur on her cheeks. Faelian was suddenly captivated by those tears; they shone like jewels in the candlelight. He found this woman to be beautiful even when crying. He leaned in the last few inches and kissed her eyes, tasting the tears on his lips. He kept kissing her face till her sniffing stopped.

"I would wait because you mean that much to me." He murmured against an ear. His breath tickled her and her ear shook off, tickling him in turn.

Faelian chuckled and brought his mouth to hers, pushing her back against the pillows as he kissed her. He'd gotten good at kissing her and now he was capable of making her melt with his expertly crafted kisses.

She stroked his ears and ran a hand down his back as he shuddered, enjoying the feeling of his body simply moving against hers, the warmth and energy almost seeping into her.

"I care for you in all the ways I shouldn't." he whispered into her ear. She felt a lump rise in her throat, worried over what that implied.

"Maybe it's time to forget your people's views on who should be loved, and how." She said, hiding her worry behind well-tested strength. Faelian now looked away.

"Have you ever heard of an Altmer falling in love with a Khajiit?" he asked bluntly.

"No. But Durga knows one that is currently in love with a Redguard." She offered, pasting on a funny smile.

"Really?"

"In Markath, Durga helped the Temple of Mara for some coin, she helped them get together. Calcelmo is Altmer like you and even older than you, but fell in love with the Jarl's housecarl Faleen. Durga helped him get a poem for her, and she loved it, and took him for her lover. Altmer are not always so tied to their ways." Durga's voice took on her familiar lighthearted tone as she recounted the couple's confession.

"An Altmer fell for a Redguard…" Faelian shook his head, a hint of a grin on his face, "I honestly think this land does something to people."

"Good thing." Durga reached up and stroked his hair. The amber strands had lost a little sheen; they'd perhaps spent a little too much time in the bedroom lately.

"Durga will not leave for a few days, it will be a long journey and there is much to be done first. Like…" She hoisted herself up and pushed Faelian off her, hopping over him to get to her storage chest. She rummaged around in it, bent over with tail in the air leaving the man with eyes hopelessly glued to her wonderful rear. She finally pulled a woolen tunic from the piles of things and threw it over her head. She stuck her head out the double doors and sniffed about, her pointed ears swinging every which way.

"Good, she's asleep."

Faelian looked at her questioningly. She motioned for him to wait and went down stairs. Through cracks in the floor he saw her go to the back room, and heard soft clanging as she wrestled with something metallic. Long slow steps meant she was carrying something heavy back to the stairs.

"What in the name of Akatosh is she doing?" he murmured as he heard some light banging on the steps.

Eventually he heard some cursing in ta'agra and a thud as she set down what ever it was. He heard some further shuffling and her talking to herself, then a small ripple of mana coursed through the air as she summoned an odd and powerful spell. Finally she came back up the stairs with some thick cloths draped over an arm.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, "I'm sure you've woken Lydia up and I wouldn't be surprised if you woke the next two house…" she shushed him putting a hand to his lips, before plucking him right off the bed.

Faelian was far taller then her but apparently nothing more than a feather in her arms. Though she was strong enough to hold him, he clung to her. No one had ever even _tried_ to carry him like this, or carry him _at all_. Later on he might have found it touching but right now it was just odd…and wrong.

"Durga, you don't need to carry me." He said through clenched teeth. He wriggled out of her hold as she reached the bottom of the steps. The air downstairs was much cooler and he threw one arm around his bare shoulders, while the other hand shot down to cover his groin.

"What are you doing?"

She pointed behind him and he saw a copper tub set up over the fire. The water within was already steaming. Faelian rolled his eyes and went over to it, wanting the warmth more than the bath itself. Very carefully he clambered in, breathing easier as he sank into the tub. Durga grinned and went over to the end facing the door, rubbing his shoulders and encourageing him to sink further into the warm bath.

"Touching gesture," he mused, "but why the carrying?"

She shrugged.

"Durga heard it was romantic for a lover to carry the other."

Faelian rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Its romantic for the man to carry the woman, not the other way around."

Durga furrowed her brow trying to noodle out this quirk of 'proper' romance.

"That makes little sense, why can't a woman carry a man, especially if she is stronger?"

Faelian sighed, trying to figure out how to explain the emasculating aspect of it. Did Khajiit really have no concept of that? He decided not to answer and slumped down in the tub. Durga coaxed him to lean his head against the edge, she had pulled up a chair and placed a bowl between her knees and held a smaller one in her hand. She freed his hair and as she dripped water over it Faelian couldn't hold back a relaxed smile as he felt the hot beads of water run over his scalp.

As she rubbed soap into his hair and massaged him, a thought drifted into his head. He couldn't stop himself from saying it.

"I've never seen you bathe. How do you keep clean?"

"Uh…" she clicked her tongue as she looked for the right answer.

"Baths, are hard for Khajiit. Takes a long time to dry, days sometimes. If we have the time and want, we clean very selectively."

"You mean sponge baths?" he said.

"Yes." Durga's eyes darted away.

"Do Khajiit lick themselves?" the awkwardness in the room could be cut with a knife.

"If they have no other choice." She answered quickly.

"So you don't like full baths."

"Too long to dry." She whined, rubbing his hair a little harder.

His mind wandered again and he found himself musing on an angry, wet Durga, hissing and spitting like her smaller, less intelligent cousins. His thoughts melted a bit as she massaged his scalp, then rinsed out his hair. She carefully added just a little oil and combed out the knots and snarls, then rinsed it again. He could smell the light citrus of the oil, and the deep musk of the soap in his hair.

"Thank you. I'm sure I sorely needed that."

Durga made a small sound of pride and pushed him forward, rubbing soap over his back and continuing her cleaning massage. She admired his skin, wet the gold hue was even more pronounced, and in nothing but firelight he looked like a moving; breathing statue. As she ran her hands over his chest and reach back and put a wet hand to her face.

"Kiss me." He whispered. She stood up and leaned over him, meeting his mouth. He put his arms under hers, hugging her torso. As she kissed him he gave a great heave, yanking her forward… but accomplished little more than making her step forward an inch. She scowled as him and smacked his cheek for the attempted dunking.

"Would have bashed Durga's head on the tub, idiot." She gave his shoulder a bite, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to tell him _don't __**ever**__ do that again_.

"You need to be punished." She said with a playful but dangerous grin.

"With what?" he asked, a little scared and a little more aroused.

All she gave in answer was a hand drifting down his body. He leaned back and spread his legs as much as the copper tub would allow, perfectly willing to accept this punishment. She dallied, teasing him, running the tips off her claws over his sensitive skin but never touching his member. Then she startled him, grabbing his balls and squeezing, making him squirm and shift in the water, some of it sloshing out and onto the fire pit. Steam and sizzling mirrored the finite pleasure/pain she was giving him. She didn't keep it up for long, moving to his member and caressing him sweetly.

Faelian's body loosened again and he leaned his head against her bosom, wetting the fur. Durga had learned his body well in the past several weeks. Her touch was slow and practiced, and with just a few quick motions she brought him closer to orgasm in leaps and bounds. Faelian was not trying to hide his pleasure at all, he stared up at the ceiling, gasping lightly and smiling letting his body move as it wished, thrusting into her hand. His climax was sweet, mellower than the frenzied heights he'd been getting lately.

He sunk back into the water as she lifted her arm out, trying to rub the fur dry with a cloth. For a few moments he soaked in the heat enjoying the last few ripples of pleasure then climbed out. Durga put a cloth around his shoulders and dried his back as he grabbed another. The cold of air lessened as the moisture was taken off his skin, and he was glad when he finally got to put on a tunic. He realized they had a small problem. What to do with the bath water? It'd be a bit odd to dump it outside this time of night, and they couldn't just leave it there, could they?

Durga seemed to have the same thought, and again resorted to magic. While she was able to conjure water she didn't seem to be able to reverse the process yet. She resorted to increasing the temperature of the fire beneath bringing the water to a fast boil and making it dissipate in steam. The whole house was filled with a fog and the scent of cedar musk soap. With a wave she banished most of the stema before it dewed up everything, then brought down the temperature of the tub with a quick blast of icy air. She then took it off the fire pit.

She shook off her wet arm, it was still well soaked. Faelian grabbed her and rubbed at it with one of his drying cloths.

"Your fur is quite thick. No wonder it takes so long to dry."

"Two layers, good for cold winter winds, not good for swimming."

He put an arm around her and led her back up to their bedroom.

"When you come back, I'll owe you a bath."

"Durga likes that," she grinned like only a Khajiit could, "she would like to let you run your nimble hands over her."

Faelian's smile grew a little wicked. He was thinking of that too, but also on how her fur would cling to her lovely curves when soaked. He just had to figure out how he was going to maintain a hold on her while she was slippery with soap.


	5. Faelian, love thyself

Bit 5

_Wheat, Blisterwort, and Hawethorn Root. Let the wheat soak in brine water, drain, then grind with mortar and pestle. When soft, add hawethorn root, fresh not soaked or dried. When mixed, add to boiling flask and slowly grind dried blisterwort with grinding wheel. When powder, add to the flask. Alllow ingridients to simmer for no more than 10 minutes, then cool and let sit for 20. _

A simple cure for a swollen joint; Felian learned it when he first began his alchemy studies. He could grind out this potion and countless other easy little tonics in his sleep. Durga seemed to bring in plenty of money through her various travels but he felt more independent making gold by mixing little cures for the alchemy shop.

Durga had been gone for two weeks now. She had said she was not sure when she'd be able to return, but she'd not let herself be gone for more than four weeks. She'd sent him the occasional letter through traders heading to Whiterun. She said she was well, that the journey to Ivarstead was a fairly uneventful one, that she's met some interesting people on her climb up Snow Throat. She mentioned almost nothing of High Hrothgar itself, or of the Grey Beards.

She said she had to do a task for them and was considering doing a few other things that were on the way. They were all written in poetic, bubbly language and full of endearments, well wishes, hugs and kisses. And not one of them told him where she really was, what she was facing or doing or fighting, were she was going for these little 'errands' or what in the world the Grey Beards were 'testing' her with.

It frustrated him that she felt the need to hide all this from him, and opened the door to an unending stream of worry and anxiety. He been worried when she faced off against Ancano as well, but at least then he knew exactly what she was doing, and even better could help.

But this, lack of knowledge left him with a gnawing pit in his gut, and every day she spent away it grew. A few nights before his imagination had run away with him and he lay awake all night, picturing the myriad of ways she might have died since the last letter. He'd resolved in the early hours that if she didn't return by her promised date that he would have to venture out to search for her.

He held to that oath, though he really didn't want have to go chasing after that wayward Khajiit. If she was alive and he found her she would no doubt be furious at him for leaving the safety of Whiterun. If she wasn't, he'd have to endure the pain of finding what was left of her, and possibly not survive himself. Then there was the chance that while he was out looking for her she would return to Whiterun to find him gone and have to mount her own search.

Faelian's mind reeled with all the ways this could go wrong as he waited for the potion to finish simmering. A high hissing caught his attention and he looked at his sand timer. It had run out long ago. He cursed and removed the flask from the heat but it was too late. The potion was over boiled and next to useless. Faelian sighed and rubbed his head. It was no good to keep obsessing over this. He sat down and tried to clear his mind. He'd been trained since he was small to do this, all Altmer were.

Never let emotions cloud your mind, never allow anything but reason to influence your actions. Be always calm and aware of your appearance and bearing. This is what made an Altmer an Altmer. For a few moments Faelian felt free of his worry, free of his love almost. But emotions quickly began gnawing their way back up. Faelian was in control again though, and concentrated on his work, a little harder then normal.

He whiled away a few hours making various potions, far more than he needed to. But the best cure for melancholy is industry and Faelian felt better doing something he had absolute control over, something that was predictable. The sun set outside and he worked from the light of a few candles and his burners. A soft rapping at the doors startled him.

Durga's housecarl, the ever loyal Lydia stood in the doorway with a plate of soup, cheese and bread.

"You haven't eaten since you woke up sir. Please." She set the plate down on the tiny table near the door. "I'll get you some mead too. Thane Durga sent you a surprise with the last letter. You've been in so little I haven't been able to show you till now."

She stepped into the kitchen and shortly came back with a medium sized jug.

"More Helgen juniper mead. The Thane said the Jarl of Markath was hording some. She convinced him to let her buy a few jugs."

"It always feels strange when you call Durga a Thane." Faelian said absently, "She acts so little like some proud noble it hardly seems like she's a Thane at all."

"Sir, the title of Thane may be given to anyone by any Jarl, and it does not pass from parent to child. It is an earned thing, and as I understand it, nobility is most often not."

Faelian sighed and went over to the table, slowly eating his soup in tiny sips. He wasn't hungry but he knew that is he didn't eat Lydia would just keep prodding him. The warrior guarded him just as fiercely as anything else in Durga's possession and Durga herself, but Faelian was sure is wasn't really out of any affection. Some Altmer might envy Lydia's ice cold devotion to duty. Lydia liked Durga well enough but always regarded him with nothing more than impassiveness. Perhaps she didn't approve of Durga's taste in men, perhaps she didn't like elves or mages, perhaps she identified him with the Thalmor, or perhaps she had no opinion at all.

For whatever reason, Faelian was still at arm's length with Lydia and neither of them were in a hurry to become closer.

"Have you had any news from Durga since the Markath letter?" he asked, hoping she was a little more open of a fellow female and fighter.

"No sir." From the look on her face he could tell she spoke true, and that she might also be wishing for some contact from her Thane.

"Summon me when you're finished. I hope you'll get some rest tonight." With that Lydia went back upstairs to her own small room.

Faelian let his thoughts wander into nothing as he ate, savoring the simple beef soup. It occurred to him that learning to cook might be a good way to fill his time. About all he could make were bread and cheese plates and it wasn't fair for Lydia to keep caring for him like a child. He was like a child. Everything was so bloody new to him and he could hardly care for himself. He'd been cloistered away for years doing nothing but studying and practicing, mastering his magic and now when he should be a man he found he couldn't even make himself a hot meal, or keep a home or…

A snap and a shot of pain in his hand drew Faelian out of his head. He'd been gripping his wooden spoon so hard it'd broken and left small splinters in his skin. He hissed and picked the bits out with his teeth, spitting them out. He looked at his half eaten soup; bread and cheese untouched by it, and pushed it away. He knew he should eat but he just didn't want to.

He leaned back in his chair, wondering why now he was bothered by his shortcomings. He was no more adept now than he was when in the Summerset Isles, or in the Imperial Capital, or at the College. He shook his head, trying to throw off these oppressive feelings. He found himself wishing he could just see Durga for a moment. The thought of talking to her eased the weight on his chest. A small smile crept onto his face, he knew exactly what she's do if he told he wanted to learn how to cook. No matter the time, day or night she'd have dragged him down into the kitchen and launched into one of her favorite recipes from Elsweyr.

Faelian lost track of time as he sat, wading in dreams. Finally he stood up and dragged himself upstairs. He collapsed on the great bed and heaved a sigh.

"All this melancholy is sapping all my energy." He mumbled. He shifted onto his side and played with some of the furs.

"Maybe Arcadia could give me some tips and recipes, I'll go to her tomorrow." He mused to himself. He kicked off his shoes and threw his robe and tunic over a close chair.

Faelian wrapped himself up in some of the thick wolf furs and sheepskins. If he got warm enough he'd eventually fall asleep. He wriggled around in the skins, rubbing the furs over him. Not nearly like her but a good reminder. There are not many people who don't like the feeling of good soft fur over their skin, and over his weeks with Durga Faelian found that that sensation had become a trigger. Fur running over him, instant arousal.

There was no mass or heat from his sultry mate, but he still felt heat rising in his loins. A tiny half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Since Durga had left he'd been sulking, no doubt. Yes he worked but little else. Maybe… if he pleased himself he'd relieve a small amount of this tension. Maybe… he'd feel a little less lonely.

Pelting on the roof startled him rain was poring down hard over Whiterun. On the wooden and straw roofs it was almost deafening. Faelian snuggled a little deeper into the skins and tangled one between his legs. He thought of the last night before she left, she had jumped him the instant Lydia was out of sight, pinned him to the bed like a jungle predator.

He played along with it, enjoying the little fantasy of two powerful creatures playing in the deep Elsweyr forest. Faelian tried to imitate her rumbling purr, couldn't quite do it but it reminded him of hers well enough. He wasn't fully aroused yet but there was a delightful fire building up. He ran a hand down to his hips, grazing fingertips over his skin like she would.

He looped a thumb under his breeches and pulled them down, kicking them off. He ran his tongue over his lips, imaging himself about to take one of her rosy, hard nipples between them. The fur running over his cock brought him to that fulcrum balancing over too much and too little. A hand moved down to grip himself firmly like she did. He used the tricks she did and as his mind hazed with pleasure he could very easy see her with him, caressing him with all that tenderness and passion.

For one reason or another the sound of her singing a Khajiit love ballad floated into his mind. Her voice though husky was practiced enough to be pleasing, and he felt a rolling, simmering, second heat building in his chest remembering that romantic evening. The furs were now making him hot and her threw them off his back, rolling onto his knees, still stroking himself.

The sudden cold air on his steaming skin gave him a wonderful jolt and a shiver rode down his spin, making him quiver in his own hand. Faelian bit his lip as he smiled, his lust addled mind dwelling on how much better this was, now that he had something other than pure fantasy to focus on. He felt hairs from the skins tickling his groin and he chuckled and thrust at the same time, oh how that reminded him of her.

He spread his legs and lowered his hips, keeping up his thrusting. It really, really reminded him of her. Thinking about being buried between her thighs, getting deeper into her quim with every thrust, her claws grazing his back and ass while he held her in a vice grip and lost control, pounding mercilessly… it drove him to climax with the force of a tidal wave.

Faelian fell forward onto the bed, sprawled out over wool and furs, breath heaving even over the rain pelting the roof. His quivering muscles stilled and he got back up, kicking the mussed fur to the floor and wiping off his hand. He wasn't so proud of the final result, but the build up had certainly done something to ease that tightness in his chest.

He pulled a feel covers over himself and found sleep to be in easier reach. He hoped Durga would come back soon, as good as this was he did not want to spend too many nights touching himself just to sleep.


End file.
